


For Love of One's Padawan

by Raven_Knight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: (by this I obviously mean Qui-Gon), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attachment, Bonding with One's Grandmaster, Bonding with One's Grandpadawan, Don't copy to another site, Dooku Never Left the Order, Dooku and Obi-Wan's first meeting, Gen, Grief, Growing Up, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Culture, Jedi Master Dooku, Knighting ceremony, Loss, Mourning, Obi-Wan's Self-Esteem Issues, Shared Grief, canon character death, lineage feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Knight/pseuds/Raven_Knight
Summary: The Naboo may have saved their world, but Obi-Wan just lost his.Following the death of his Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi feels alone and adrift in his place in the Jedi Order until an unexpected ally and champion enters his life with support and understanding.
Relationships: Dooku & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dooku & Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 85
Kudos: 482





	For Love of One's Padawan

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars. This piece, archived at Archive of Our Own (Ao3), is purely a non-commercial work of fiction from which I am not profiting in any way. This work may not be reproduced, archived, or redistributed by any means and/or in any format without prior written permission from me. Permission may be obtained by contacting me at r4v3n.kn1ght@gmail.com. 
> 
> Beta-read by the amazing Gimmemore, who is the best and has read over many of my fics and let me know whether or not they were 1. good, 2. made sense, and 3. made them emotional - laughs or tears. Thanks for always being willing to look over my work while trying to write your own! <3
> 
> I've decided that Dooku's given name is Aren, I don't care what canon/fanon says on the matter.
> 
> This fic takes place just before the final scenes of Episode I, then goes off into AU Territory. Enjoy. You may need tissues? ~ RK

**For Love of One’s Padawan**  
**By**  
**Raven Knight**

Obi-Wan Kenobi did not leave his Master’s side. Not when members of the Royal Guard swarmed into the chamber their urgency halted as they took in the sight of the motionless, run-through Jedi Master and his weeping apprentice cradling his upper body against his chest. Not when a pointless medical team arrived and they urged him to let go of his Master. Nothing could compel Obi-Wan Kenobi to leave Qui-Gon Jinn’s side.

Refusing both to use the Force to assist him and help from anyone with a devastated glance, Obi-Wan struggled to lift Qui-Gon Jinn’s tall body and settled him onto the hover-stretcher. With an outstretched hand, he called his Master’s lightsaber to him and clipped it onto his belt in place of the one he’d lost. He folded the slack hands over the mortal wound, hiding it as much as possible from view. He removed the motion-lock and guided it back through the path of the battle and to the huge hangar doors. As they slid open, cheers and shouts of joyful victory assaulted Obi-Wan’s ears. He immediately blocked them from his awareness. How could they celebrate? His Master was dead. Fresh tears fell as he continued through the hangar, a gentle hand on his shoulder blade indicating the proper direction he should travel. He didn’t hear a small boy asking him what had happened. He heard nothing except the agonized screaming of his own voice in his head. The Naboo may have saved their world, but Obi-Wan just lost his.

They arrived at the Royal Healing Chambers where Obi-Wan still refused to leave his Master’s side. He remained, forcing the staff to work around him as they carefully stripped Qui-Gon’s body of his robes and tunics to clean the skin and hair. The embalmers arrived afterwards. Obi-Wan silently guarded his Master’s body as they worked, partly focused on the embalming process and partly focused on how to word a request to Queen Amidala to allow him to observe the Jedi funeral traditions while on her planet. A short eternity passed before attendants returned with his Master’s laundered and repaired clothing. The embalmers redressed Qui-Gon and positioned him for what Obi-Wan had always known as a Forever Sleep.

But his Master did not sleep. His Master was dead.

A wave of tears and loss surprised him. He had remained composed while the staff had been in the room with him, but when alone with what remained of his Master, when it truly registered that the strong chest of the only father he had known no longer rose and fell with life, Obi-Wan silently wept.

Time and its passage had no meaning for him.

He vaguely recalled that someone had come to him with a message. “The Jedi Council will be arriving within two days.” He supposed he’d nodded in response because the person said, “If you want, I can sit with you.”

He’d looked at her then and recognized the young decoy queen, Sabé. They had spent some time speaking together on Tatooine while waiting for the replacement parts to arrive in the damaged ship. He liked her. She was kind and caring, but he did not want her pity. He wanted no one’s sympathies and no one’s company. Slowly, due to his throbbing headache from his overwhelming grief, he shook his head in refusal. She nodded, turned, and made to leave him to his vigil. “Thank you, Sabé,” he croaked. She did not smile and for that he was grateful. She simply nodded her understanding and quietly shut the door behind her. He heard the light beeping of a privacy lock being engaged. His gratitude grew in light of her small and thoughtful gesture.

She departed and once more time and its passage had no meaning for him.

A mechanical, vibrating hum interrupted his vigil. It repeated three times before he could place it as a comlink humming an incoming signal. He plucked his link from his belt. “Kenobi,” he said, opening the connection. The hum continued. His heart lurched as he realized it hadn’t been his comlink that requested connection, but his Master’s device. His hand trembled as he reached for the other comlink at his side. “Hello?” he said, his voice shaking. Was this some sort of cruel, sick joke?

“Padawan, I felt a great disturbance in the Force. I apologize for the delay in contacting you, but following meditation, I only just now deduced the source came from you.” Obi-Wan’s could only breathe in quick, sharp, panicky starts and stops as his vision blurred with fresh agony. “You were in a great deal of pain. But now, you are quiet.” The deep, authoritative voice gentled when he asked, “Is it young Obi-Wan? Is he alright?”

Obi-Wan tried to answer, to explain, but all that burst from him was a cut off sob.

“Qui-Gon,” the other man said softly, “has your Padawan joined the Force?”

Obi-Wan shook his head despite knowing the other man couldn’t see him. “No, Grandmaster,” he barely managed to speak through his grief. “I—My Master—he’s—”

Master Dooku sucked in a deep, pain-filled breath. He said nothing, listening to Obi-Wan’s struggle to control his emotions. When he spoke, his voice remained gentle towards Obi-Wan, but a disciplined hardness lay beneath it. “I understand. Qui-Gon has died.”

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan confirmed quietly. He could not say ‘Master,’ not to another so soon. He would not. He hoped his Master’s master would understand.

“How?”

Obi-Wan doubted Dooku wanted the entire painful recap of his failure in protecting his Master, so he provided only one word. “Sith.” Dooku said nothing. He didn’t believe him. Obi-Wan’s despair took hold. Perhaps his Grandmaster knew, could sense, the worthlessness of his Grandpadawan. Perhaps Dooku wanted a more in-depth explanation. A Jedi Master with Qui-Gon Jinn’s skill and training couldn’t possibly be overtaken by simple means. Obi-Wan swallowed his shame and prepared to confess, to take the responsibility and burden of his Master’s death upon his flawed shoulders. “The Council didn’t believe him either when he said he’d encountered a Sith on Tatooine. He told them it was a Sith, but they didn’t believe him and they sent us alone—”

“Where are you?” Dooku cut in, jarring Obi-Wan’s focus.

“Naboo, Grandmaster,” he answered immediately.

“I assume the Council is going there to investigate the circumstances of Qui-Gon’s death.” He stated it, not asked it.

“Yes, Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan whispered, the pain of mentioning his Master’s name in conjunction with death twisted his guts.

“Are you standing vigil?”

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

“Listen to me closely, young Obi-Wan,” Dooku demanded. Obi-Wan’s grief retreated as his Grandmaster commanded his full focus. “Do not end it until I arrive.”

Obi-Wan started. Meet Master Dooku? They had never before interacted, not in the ten plus years Qui-Gon had named Obi-Wan as his Padawan. Obi-Wan had long given up hope of ever meeting his master’s teacher, and because of that, he’d considered Master Yoda more of his Grandmaster than Dooku simply because the small-statured Jedi had been in Obi-Wan’s life since his days in the crèche. Master Dooku seemed almost mythical in comparison, a legendary figure worthy of respect and recognition but one who never had time to call upon his former apprentice for a friendly chat or social visit. Obi-Wan had no idea what to expect of his Grandmaster. “Where are y—”

“I will join you within a day,” Dooku continued over Obi-Wan’s question, managing both not to answer and to answer it with the vague phrasing. “Permit no one to interrupt you. No one. Not even the Council.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “But, Grandmaster, they could order me to—”

Dooku’s voice grew cold and precise. “It is my right to be there for my Padawan’s vigil. They would not dare deny a Master this final rite for a member of his Lineage.” He released his temper with a long exhale. “Admit no one into that chamber,” he repeated. “Do you understand me, young Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, hoping he would not have to stand his ground and refuse a Council Member entry to the chamber. “I understand, Grandmaster.”

“Good. See to your duty until my arrival.” Dooku severed the connection before Obi-Wan could respond.

Obi-Wan replaced his Master’s comlink beside his own on his belt as he stood to lock the door from the inside. He circled the perimeter of the chamber, securing all other possible entry points and windows, closing out the natural light to remove the illusion of time from even peripheral awareness. He set fire to the old candle wicks around the room and doused the artificial lights. The only light shone from the scented candles. With energy he didn’t believe he had left in him, he positioned his Master’s hover-stretcher length-wise against the only windowless wall.

He visually searched the room for his robe, cursing that he did not have it with him. But then he saw it, saw his and his Master’s, carefully laid over the back of a chair. Sabé must have brought them to him when she visited. Gratitude warmed him. He lifted his lighter-colored robe from the chair back and slid his arms into the voluminous sleeves, adjusting it to drape comfortably and properly. He reached back to lift the large hood to hide his features so that not even the candlelight could find him. He tucked the front edges of the robe around him, hiding his beige tunics, and slipped his hands inside his sleeves. He stood in front of the hover-stretcher, in front of Qui-Gon’s body, and formally guarded his Master’s Forever Sleep.

He allowed himself to fall into a light meditation, reflecting on his training with his Master, the countless lessons he’d taught him, the quiet moments, the moments they fled for their lives, the affection that had grown between them over the years working so closely with one another. He grieved for their time together being cut short at the hands of that Zabrak Sith warrior, how his Master would not see his Knighting, how his Master would no longer be there as a resource of advice and comfort, how he was a Padawan but without a Master. A Padawan who had failed his Master. He acknowledged all of these and more, allowed the accompanying emotions to run their course, and ignored the tears that continued to slowly fall. Had anyone seen him standing in that room, they would only have noticed his tears when each drop caught the light of the candles as they fell from Obi-Wan’s skin to shatter on the polished stone floor at his feet.

A light, seeking touch to his mind roused him from his meditation. He simultaneously recognized and didn’t recognize the Force signature of the person gently alerting him to their presence. Master Dooku had arrived. A full day must have passed. With a light touch of the Force, Obi-Wan disengaged the lock on the door, trying to center himself enough to face his Grandmaster for the first time.

The door opened and Master Dooku strode into the room. His presence commanded Obi-Wan’s attention and his heart ached to notice his Grandmaster shared the same imposing height as Qui-Gon. He’d expected Dooku to outfit himself similarly to his Master, but this was not the case. Dooku’s robes and tunics were soft, luxurious even, in various shades of brown. The deepest smoky umber colored his inner tunic, the outer tunic and overtunic were the welcoming soft beige of freshly-cooked grain, and his tabards reminded Obi-Wan of the indulgent chocolate caf Qui-Gon permitted himself on rare occasion. Dooku’s tabards were edged in fine auburn embroidery, emphasized by his sash precisely matching the decorative color. The hood of his cloak was thrown back away from his face. Obi-Wan flinched. Qui-Gon’s cloak was the exact same color.

Dooku abruptly came to a halt at Obi-Wan’s flinch and took the opportunity to study the younger man. “You’re smaller than I expected.” Obi-Wan didn’t move or acknowledge the slight. Dooku hummed in disappointment, but Obi-Wan couldn’t tell if it stemmed from disappointment in him or from wordlessly acknowledging the harshness of the first thing Dooku ever said to him in person. Qui-Gon mentioned on more than one occasion how strict and demanding Dooku had been as his master. Obi-Wan had no intention of offending his Grandmaster, but apparently, he failed already.

“Let me look at you,” Dooku said.

Obi-Wan lifted his head further to meet Dooku’s scrutinizing eyes. He tried to stand straight, to help himself give a favorable impression, but it had been days and exhaustion and grief weighed him down.

“There is no death,” Dooku reminded him.

“There is the Force,” Obi-Wan replied with the responding line of the Jedi Code automatically. He’d memorized it since he could remember. He’d tried to live by it every day of his life since he’d learned it. In the last few days, Obi-Wan struggled to live by the Code. His posture slumped at another perceived failure.

Dooku nodded. “It is not a comfort now, I know.”

Obi-Wan took the gentle offer of understanding. “No. It is not.”

Dooku cleared his throat after silence stood between them awkwardly. “I am told that you defeated Qui-Gon’s opponent.”

Obi-Wan nodded once, sharply. “Yes, Grandmaster.”

“How?”

Obi-Wan swallowed nervously. Should he tell him how he’d fought in anger, in rage against the Zabrak for cutting his Master down? Should he confess that he’d flirted with the Dark Side until he’d been pushed off his feet and into the endless chasm? Would that temptation be ignored when he described how he’d centered himself, honored his Master’s teachings, and rose out of the jaws of death stalking him to end that gleeful Sith’s life? He didn’t know what Master Dooku would think. He decided on brevity. “I cut the Sith in half.”

“Then it was a Sith.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “He was clearly trained in the use of the Force and in saber combat styles. If he did not come from the Temple, the only explanation could be that he was Sith. He was too powerful, too disciplined, too fast to be otherwise.”

Dooku nodded slowly as Obi-Wan explained. When his contemplation ended, he studied Obi-Wan further, took in his body language, lightly tested his mental shields, and read his signature in the Force. A hint of a smile revealed his satisfaction. “It’s a great pity our paths have never crossed before, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you. And though oftentimes he and I have disagreed on many subjects, I am pleased that he did not exaggerate regarding you.” Obi-Wan swallowed self-consciously, fought back fresh tears at the posthumous praise from his Master. Dooku resting a hand firmly on his shoulder brought Obi-Wan’s focus back to the present. “I am honored to have you as part of my line, young Knight.”

Obi-Wan drew his brows together and frowned. “Forgive me, Grandmaster, but you are mistaken. I am no Knight.” Seeing Dooku’s confusion, Obi-Wan reached into the shadows of his hood and pulled his Padawan braid forward. “I did not mean to mislead you.”

“You’re still a Padawan?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Before returning to Naboo, Master Jinn recommended me to the Council for my Trials, but—” He closed his mouth, refusing to continue.

“But what?” Dooku prompted.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath before admitting, “I am not ready.”

Dooku looked unhappy. “Why would Qui-Gon recommend his Padawan for his Trials if his student was not prepared for them?”

Obi-Wan turned his gaze to the stone floor. “Anakin,” he whispered.

Dooku reacted immediately. “Ah, yes. Anakin Skywalker. The small slip of a boy I nearly ran into when I arrived. A boy full of too much confidence and high opinion of his accidental heroism, yet also seemingly afraid of his own shadow on a new and unfamiliar world.”

Dooku had obviously both encountered and been told about the boy in question. However, Obi-Wan felt his opinion a touch unfair. “He is a brave boy,” he defended him. “And hardly afraid of his own shadow.”

“Fear surrounds that boy,” Dooku said.

Obi-Wan could not argue with Dooku’s observation. He said nothing to counter that. “He is strong in the Force.”

Dooku sliced his hand through the air, dismissively. “Far too old, regardless of his sensitivity. Admitting anyone into the Order older than five years is too dangerous to risk.” He turned away from Obi-Wan, who raised his voice at his back.

“I sensed danger, too, Grandmaster, but consider this: Perhaps the danger we sense isn’t about him but for him. I killed a Sith. Surely you know as well as I do of our History against them. There are always two Sith. I have no way of knowing if the one I faced was the Master or Apprentice, but whichever one remains will surely seek another to train. Can we really leave a child, especially one so strong in the Force, so attuned to it, so sensitive to it, without training or protection? We would be inviting death to our doorstep if we sent him away.” Dooku turned back to Obi-Wan, his interest piqued.

Obi-Wan continued. “Qui-Gon believed Anakin is the Chosen One.” Dooku opened his mouth, but stayed silent when Obi-Wan raised a hand. “I have my own doubts of this. But he believed it so strongly that he pushed towards my Trials to be available to apprentice him even as the Council refused him training.”

Dooku’s stern expression crumbled into a twisted combination of disappointment, grief, and a brief flash of anger. “Foolish boy,” he spat. He closed his eyes and gathered serenity to him as he strode to stand before Obi-Wan again. He opened his eyes and stared tearfully into Obi-Wan’s accepting gaze. “Qui-Gon should never have done that to you.”

Obi-Wan broke their visual connection and hung his head. “He did what he felt was right.”

Dooku’s voice hardened. “He should never have done that to you,” he insisted.

Obi-Wan swallowed his emotions with difficulty. “As you say, Grandmaster.”

Dooku huffed through his nose. “Now is not the time for such discussion. It can wait, as can the subject of that boy.” He gently took hold of Obi-Wan upper arm as the younger man swayed on his feet. “You are exhausted. Have you rested since?”

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Were you injured?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Have you sought healing?”

Obi-Wan shook his head again.

Dooku nodded to himself. “I insist that you seek a healer to tend to you. Afterwards, you are to rest.”

Obi-Wan shuddered. “I cannot leave my Master.”

Dooku nearly said something harsh and unkind, but opted for compassion towards his Grandpadawan. “Qui-Gon would want you to take care of yourself, youngling.” Obi-Wan failed to hold back a quiet sob. “Go,” Dooku commanded him. “I will stand vigil until the evening. We will break our fast together in the morning.”

Obi-Wan released a shuddering breath. “Yes, Grandmaster.” With his hood still concealing his grief, Obi-Wan turned away from Dooku. He walked to the body of Qui-Gon Jinn and stood beside him in silence. He stood there for so long that Dooku thought Obi-Wan had disregarded his command for rest and healing and stubbornly chose to continue his vigil. But Obi-Wan turned from Qui-Gon and drifted like a lost soul to the door, departing the room without a word.

Dooku engaged the lock on the door, then walked to his Padawan. He stood over the still form, looking at the immobile features and recalling the time Qui-Gon grew up at his side. He took up a lock of hair behind Qui-Gon’s right ear and let the loose strands slide through his fingers. “Always such a headstrong, foolish boy,” he whispered to the man who could no longer hear him. “Rest now, my Padawan.”

He placed his back to Qui-Gon, raised his hood to cast his face in shadow and prepared himself to observe the ritual vigil properly. He remained stationary for hours, until the sun set on Naboo and the city of Theed, and the deep mourning bells sounded on the breeze. Queen Amidala requested that certain elements of Naboo mourning tradition be permitted to honor the Jedi Master who gave his life for her people’s liberty from occupation. A noble sentiment, and granted by the Jedi Council, but unnecessary in Dooku’s opinion.

The actions of Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi had little to do with the liberation of Naboo from the Trade Federation. The former slave boy had more to do with how those events played out. Dooku forced down his distaste at this. His Padawan deserved to live a long life, well past the age of his Master, full of Grandpadawans, even Great-grandpadawans, to dote upon. He never deserved to have his life cut viciously short by an ancient enemy to their Order. He deserved a bright and long and promising future. But what Dooku believed Qui-Gon deserved no longer mattered. He was dead and any potential for his future along with him.

Footsteps approached the chamber. He refused them entry, even when his own Master urged him to open the door for the Naboo Queen and her guards to escort the dead to the funeral dome. Dooku waited until he sensed one particular presence on the other side of the door. He disengaged the lock with the Force when Obi-Wan Kenobi maneuvered his way to the front of the group gathered in front of the door. Dooku allowed only Obi-Wan’s entrance.

The young man’s hood still concealed his face as he came to stand in front of Dooku. “Thank you for waiting for me, Grandmaster,” he said quietly.

Dooku nodded. “Are you ready?” Obi-Wan shook his head minutely, but Dooku caught the movement. He leaned closer to his Grandpadawan. “Neither am I, young one,” he confessed, his voice pitched low enough that only Obi-Wan would hear him.

“May I—” Obi-Wan stopped to clear his throat. “May I lead him?”

Dooku nodded. “Of course.” He knew this would mean he would follow the body’s procession to the funeral dome, but would do so willingly if it would allow Obi-Wan to remain composed and cling to some semblance of dignity and serenity.

“Thank you, Grandmaster.” Obi-Wan bowed deeply at the waist to Dooku, who responded with a bow of his own, not as deep but gracious.

Obi-Wan walked to the head of his Master’s hover-stretcher, looking one last time at his beloved teacher, the man he knew and loved as the only father he had ever known. Bending forward, over the crown of Qui-Gon’s head, he pressed his forehead to the still, cold counterpart of his Master’s, resting there in mournful farewell. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I will do better. I will not fail you again.” He sniffled as he raised his head enough to press a gentle kiss to Qui-Gon’s forehead. “Goodbye, my Master,” he bade quietly. “May the Force embrace you and welcome you home.”

Obi-Wan straightened and activated the hover-stretcher to angle it towards the door. Dooku walked to his position at the foot of the hover-stretcher. “When you decide, Obi-Wan,” he said, letting the decision to proceed to the funeral dome be Obi-Wan’s alone. The younger Jedi visibly shook as he took a breath, then another, and another. At last, Obi-Wan stood tall, sniffled away his tears, buried his tumultuous emotions, and took his first steps without following in Qui-Gon’s guiding stride.

With a touch of the Force and a touch to the hover-stretcher, Dooku followed Obi-Wan’s pace as they began to Qui-Gon’s place of Forever Sleep. They cleared the chamber doors, and Queen Amidala, her handmaidens, two Gungans, the newly-elected Supreme Chancellor, and his guards turned to lead the way to the funeral dome. The entire Jedi Council took up stride behind Dooku, followed by the Tatooine boy, Anakin Skywalker, while various security forces from Naboo filtered in behind them. When they reached their destination, Dooku and Obi-Wan positioned the hover-stretcher beside the already-prepared raised stone pyre. Uncertain of what to do, Obi-Wan froze. Dooku went to him. “With me,” he instructed, and brought him to stand near the Queen. Dooku placed himself between her and Obi-Wan.

As one, the Jedi Council members each raised one hand and called upon the Force to raise Qui-Gon’s body from the hover-stretcher and guided it over the unlit pyre. With slow, deliberate care they gently laid Qui-Gon to rest on the wood. Master Yoda, perched comfortably on Master Windu’s shoulder, signaled for the man to kneel so he could perform the final act of sending one of their own into the Force. At even level with the pyre as Master Windu knelt, Yoda ignited his lightsaber. Obi-Wan made a choked sound of pain at Dooku’s side. Yoda rested the tip of his blade against the dry wood of Qui-Gon’s bed. The mourners and observers stood breathless and silent as the green blade of the lightsaber heated the wood until it sparked, spread, and blazed up around Qui-Gon Jinn.

Obi-Wan sobbed quietly. Dooku searched helplessly, empathetically for something to say to him that would allow Obi-Wan to grieve without others taking too much note of it. A topic he’d hoped to address in the morning would have to do. “Obi-Wan,” he said, voice low for only his companion’s ears. He waited until his Grandpadawan turned his face towards him before speaking further. “I understand that the timing may seem impolitic, but it is my understanding that Qui-Gon’s petition for you to take your Trials was denied and the Council feels you still require guidance before undergoing them.”

This wasn’t how he wanted to start the conversation. Not at all. He sighed in frustration, tried to gather his thoughts better and started again. “I would be honored to support your final training and see you through your Trials.” Obi-Wan stiffened, but Dooku couldn’t determine whether the reaction stemmed from shock or offense. He tried to clarify his position. “I mentioned to you earlier that Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you.” Obi-Wan’s nod was barely perceptible. “I would not extend the offer had he not spoken well of you. You are bright, skilled, and my Padawan loved you. I would see you, his legacy, grow and flourish as the Knight he raised to all but title.” Obi-Wan stared at him with shining eyes. “Do not allow that creature to strike down both of you.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together tightly, struggling to keep control of his emotions, his grief. He glanced towards the pyre, then turned back to Dooku. He opened his mouth, but Dooku shook his head. “You need not answer now. Take the night and meditate on my proposal. We will discuss it over first meal.”

Obi-Wan nodded, then faced the pyre fully once more and watched as the flames consumed his Master. A quiet sniffle to his right drew his attention. Anakin. How could he have forgotten the boy? He turned to him. Obi-Wan saw his own questionable future, a grounding past from which he’d been uprooted, and the anxiety from finding himself standing in the middle of such uncertainty of the present mirrored in Anakin’s expression. They were very similar, and the revelation stunned Obi-Wan. Nothing of their paths was certain. The only certainty they both grasped was Qui-Gon’s death, the fire, and the Force claiming the Jedi Master’s body and essence once more. How could he possibly fulfill his Master’s final wishes? How could he possibly train this boy?

Anakin noticed Obi-Wan watching him and slid his anxious eyes to meet Obi-Wan’s grief-stricken gaze. “What will happen to me now?”

He almost blurted out a reassuring promise he might not be able to honor. But he studied Anakin’s fearful eyes and quivering mouth, wondering if he too had looked like this boy when he had been nearing his thirteenth birthday and desperate for a master to train him. Compassion warmed Obi-Wan’s heart, and he told Anakin the truth. “Master Jinn had hopes for your future. It just…may not happen exactly the way he wanted or how you may have been led to expect.”

Anakin nodded and bit the inside of his cheek nervously. “Can I still be a Jedi?”

Obi-Wan did not reassure Anakin falsely, but swore a vow to him. “I will not abandon you, Anakin, whether or not the Council approves of your training. You may not be trained as a Knight, but Qui-Gon and I brought you from your home and you have nowhere else to go. You will stay in the Temple, and even if you are not trained as a Knight, one way or another, you will still be a Jedi. I promised.”

It may not have been exactly what Anakin wanted to hear, but he understood what Obi-Wan meant. Even if the Council didn’t want him trained, Obi-Wan would still be there. Obi-Wan would still be around for him should Anakin need him. Having someone promise that was enough. Anakin offered Obi-Wan a weak, tearful smile. Obi-Wan’s face softened. As one, they turned their attention and respectful silence back to Qui-Gon’s pyre.

At Obi-Wan’s left, Dooku made a decision, the action for which could wait until the early morning. Dooku crossed his arms low on his body so that he could rest his hand on the saber clipped at his right side. Tonight was for his Padawan. All other problems could wait.

_The Zabrak dazed Qui-Gon in a smashing blow of the double-sided hilt of his weapon. He only needed that one moment of incapacitation to run the Jedi Master through with a single, precise strike. Qui-Gon dropped his lightsaber and fell to his knees as the Zabrak withdrew his crimson blade from his body. He wavered, staring at his screaming Padawan trapped behind a wall of energy, and crumbled to the floor. _

_Seconds later, the barrier deactivated and Obi-Wan charged, fury and devastation fueling his attacks while determination to survive protected him in his parries. He split the Zabrak’s weapon with his own and kicked him down. The Jedi’s opponent fled and Obi-Wan heatedly gave chase. Then, his control of the duel slipped and the Zabrak forced Obi-Wan on the defensive. A kick landed and Obi-Wan nearly lost his grip on his lightsaber, but recovered quickly. Much more quickly than his dying Master lying nearby from a similar blow._

_The duelists separated, the Zabrak retreated and gathered himself to strike while Obi-Wan began to fall apart through fear. His parries barely saved him, his attacks grew sloppy in his rage, and it all threw the Padawan off-balance. It should not have been so easy for the Zabrak to overtake the Jedi, but he did so with a simple, efficient Force-push that sent Obi-Wan feet over head and straight into the waiting maw of death. The Zabrak casually kicked Obi-Wan’s lightsaber into the shaft after him and peered over the edge. _

_Probably to watch as his other opponent fell endlessly to his death. But he drew back in visible surprise. By a miracle or by the Will of the Force, Obi-Wan grabbed onto the protrusion and held on for his life. In frustrated rage, the Zabrak slashed his red blade against the edge of the pit, sending blistering sparks to rain down on Obi-Wan, trying to get him to lose his grip or merely to taunt him as long as possible until exhaustion loosened the Padawan’s hold and he fell to his death anyway. _

_Obi-Wan stilled, turned his head in the direction of his stilled and dying Master, then turned inward, pulled the Force to him, and found his center of calm. A second later, he launched himself up and out of the chasm and Qui-Gon’s abandoned lightsaber flew into his waiting hand. It hissed to life even before he closed his fingers around the hilt in his flip over the Zabrak’s head. Obi-Wan’s stunned opponent turned to face him, to meet his strike, but Obi-Wan had already begun his attack. As soon as his feet landed, Obi-Wan finished his movement and swept the green blade of his Master through the waist of the Zabrak. _

_Obi-Wan glared at him, not in victory, but in hatred, in anger as he staggered once then fell back into the waiting embrace of the death from which Obi-Wan had just rescued himself. _

_Then, Obi-Wan ran to Qui-Gon, fell to his knees at his side, and cradled his Master as the man breathed his last, and struggled through a final conversation._

Dooku hit the stop button on the security footage and sat back in the plush chair of his guest quarters. What he’d just seen had not been what he’d expected, not from his Padawan and not from his Grandpadawan. Not at all what he’d expected.

Unsettled, he stood and went out onto the balcony, deeply inhaling the light breeze, grateful he was placed on the side of Theed Palace facing the waterfalls. It afforded him a higher likelihood of fresher air, and he needed it in that moment. Nausea clenched his stomach and he grabbed the rail and leaned forward. He needed to meditate.

The door chime sounded and opened a heartbeat later despite his lack of welcome. He didn’t turn to find out who’d entered. The sound and smell of a breakfast cart told him all he needed to know. He didn’t acknowledge the servant who’d delivered it, and he wasn’t lured to sample it no matter how enticing the scent of the meal. He had other, more pressing concerns on his mind.

Had Qui-Gon been mistaken in Obi-Wan’s potential? He’d always spoken of the boy with praise and high opinion, but what if he’d spoken from a biased position? Obi-Wan’s skill in the duel he’d just watched certainly failed to live up to Qui-Gon’s claims. Perhaps he should not have offered to guide the boy through his Trials until after he’d seen the footage. Dooku sighed. He could do nothing about that now. He’d made the offer. Obi-Wan would either refuse it or accept it, and Dooku would do his best to drive that boy to Knighthood should Obi-Wan accept his guidance.

He stalked back into the room and prepared a tea. He sunk into the chair for the duration of a single sip before the room’s atmosphere stifled him. Dooku quickly brought his tea onto the open air of the balcony, the constant roar of the waterfalls soothing his agitation, but not his thoughts.

He replayed Obi-Wan’s duel with the Zabrak in his mind, critically running through it move by move. Obi-Wan had above average skill and sharp instincts in his fighting. That he held his own against such a vicious and precise opponent proved testimony enough to his technical skill. Qui-Gon had trained him well in that regard. The Zabrak and Obi-Wan had been evenly matched for half the fight, but where their paths separated was after Obi-Wan had taken half of his opponent’s weapon out of the equation. The Zabrak had never lost focus, had retreated from the combat for only moments to gather himself and to size up the Padawan. Obi-Wan had also stepped back in retreat, but it had not been for the same reasons. Obi-Wan had been terrified and his inability to discard that fear unbalanced him, caused him to lose his focus, and nearly killed him.

Dooku sighed into his tea through his nose as he took a long sip. The Council was right. Obi-Wan wasn’t ready for his Trials yet. In terms of technique, the boy was certainly ready, but not when it came to his emotional core, his focus, and stability.

Dooku shook his head. He did concede that witnessing your Master’s murder would be enough to unbalance anyone. When he’d felt the disturbance in the Force, Dooku had been thrown off balance enough to reach out to Qui-Gon as soon as possible. He had not expected to learn that his student had died in combat and in agony. Few revelations had surprised Dooku in his life, but Obi-Wan telling him Qui-Gon had died surprised him more than any news he’d ever received. He’d seen the security footage himself, watched his Padawan burn, and still he could barely believe the reality. Dooku inhaled shakily and blinked back tears of his own.

The door chime sounded in his quarters. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, in and out, and calmed his thoughts and emotions. He knew who awaited him and he had to face him. He very well could be getting into more than he’d intended with his offer to the boy. Dooku went to the door and opened it, stepping back to allow his young visitor inside. “Come in, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan bowed. “Morning, Grandmaster.” He could not say the full greeting, for he doubted anything was good about the morning for either of them.

Dooku nodded to the breakfast cart. “Join me.”

They silently made up their plates and Obi-Wan delayed with preparing his tea before joining Dooku at the small table. Neither knew what to say and neither had much appetite for food. Obi-Wan, erring on the side of diplomacy and formality, forced himself to eat a little bit.

Dooku’s voice startled Obi-Wan. “I spoke to the Council early this morning.” He noted that his Grandpadawan looked everywhere but at him. Unacceptable. “Look at me when I speak to you, Obi-Wan,” he commanded. Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped up to him. Dooku nodded his approval. “As I was saying, I spoke to the Council. Immediately following this so-called celebration parade and other formal public events to acknowledge this reunification and liberation of Naboo and its people, the Council is returning to Coruscant.”

“What of Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked.

Dooku let the interruption pass without correction. “I took the liberty of petitioning the Council and made arrangements for young Skywalker. He will accompany the Council. Upon arrival to the Temple, he will be placed in the crèche until such time a Knight or Master selects him for an apprenticeship. That way, he can better—” Dooku looked up when Obi-Wan’s fork fell from his grip. The boy’s face had lost all color and he looked nauseated. “Obi-Wan, are you well?”

Obi-Wan stared at his food but saw none of it. His eyes flooded with tears and his hands trembled on the table’s surface. “I promised him.”

“Promised who and what?” Dooku prompted gently. He certainly hoped Obi-Wan hadn’t made promises to Skywalker he couldn’t keep and expected Obi-Wan to say something like that. What he heard stole his breath.

“I promised my Master that I would train Anakin.” Obi-Wan didn’t hold back his tears anymore. “I promised him just before he died. I must train him. I promised.”

Dooku was grateful that Obi-Wan refused to look at him. If Obi-Wan had, he would have seen tears in Dooku’s eyes. “He had no right to ask that of you.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He claimed him as his Padawan before we came back here and—”

“In dismissal of you and the years you’ve stood loyally by him and his training,” Dooku interrupted. “I was told what happened in the Council Chambers before you both returned here. I know that he insisted, insolently, that Skywalker be trained despite his age and his attachments, despite his fear, and, yes, Obi-Wan, despite already having a Padawan.” Obi-Wan flinched. “He pushed you aside in favor of this boy, pushed you towards your Trials, knowing you would not pass.” Obi-Wan looked stricken but opened his mouth to argue. “He knew you were not ready, Obi-Wan, otherwise he would have already recommended you to the Council. What he did was cruel and—”

“Unthinking!” Obi-Wan shouted. “He would not have done it to hurt me. My Master stood up for what he believed, even if that meant challenging the Council and pushing me to be something greater than I am or aspired to be. He never once coddled me or lied to me.” He set his jaw and glared at Dooku. “So when he told the Council that there was little more I could learn from him, I believed him. I trusted my Master. And perhaps he is right about training Anakin. He might be the Chosen One, or he might not be, but in either case, do you think it is wise to send him from the Temple and into the hands of the Sith?” Dooku did not react. “We know they’ve emerged from hiding. We cannot send Anakin to them. My Master was right in this: Anakin is powerful and very strong in the Force. He _must_ be trained.”

Dooku contemplated his Grandpadawan’s words with a stalling sip of tea. And then another. “But it does not mean you are the right teacher for him.”

Obi-Wan did not back down. “I _promised_ my Master as he _died_. I will train Anakin. Without the approval of the Council if I must.”

Dooku set his cup down hard and fixed Obi-Wan with a glare of his own. “Do not be a fool like your Master.”

“My Master was not a fool,” Obi-Wan said, his face twisting in offense. “He was wise, compassionate, kind, and the best swordsman in the Order.”

“That all may be true, but he was still a fool who was outmatched.” Obi-Wan nearly interrupted, but obeyed Dooku’s upraised hand for his silence. “Rushing in against a faster, younger opponent like that. I taught that boy better than that!”

Dooku didn’t hear the hitch in Obi-Wan’s breath due to sipping his tea. He may not have heard him, but he noticed immediately that Obi-Wan’s hands trembled as he tried to make himself look busy. He aimlessly pushed pieces of his breakfast around on the plate but made no move to lift food to his mouth to eat it. Obi-Wan angled his face so low that Dooku only saw the top of his head. While his wandering fork made some noise, Ob-Wan himself stayed determinedly silent. Dooku may not have interacted with his Grandpadawan before these last twenty-four hours, but he knew the signs of someone trying to stay silent while grief tore through the mind and body. He’d seen it when Qui-Gon lost a Padawan to the Dark Side. Obi-Wan reacted the same way as Qui-Gon to grief. _No, not grief,_ Dooku realized with a start. _Guilt. _He would not see Obi-Wan decline as Qui-Gon had all those years ago. He would not allow it. “Obi-Wan?” he called softly.

Obi-Wan either didn’t hear him or deliberately chose not to acknowledge him.

Dooku tried again. “Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan strangled the sob at his lips. He shook his head, silently asking to be left alone, for Dooku to stop.

Dooku would not stop. Not this time. Not like he had with Qui-Gon. He reached across the small table and gently closed his hand around Obi-Wan’s wrist. “Obi-Wan, listen to me,” he said.

Obi-Wan tore his hand free and raised agonized eyes to his Grandmaster. “It’s my fault!” Dooku had no idea what Obi-Wan meant. His puzzlement didn’t last long at all. “If I hadn’t been separat—If I’d seen that kick coming, I would’ve stayed at his side. I could have been there!” Obi-Wan’s face twisted as a sob tore from his throat. Dooku stared at him in growing horror at Obi-Wan’s confession. “But I fell and he didn’t wait for me and then I couldn’t keep up. And the ray shields were there and I wasn’t fast enough to clear the last one and my Master was alone. It’s my fault. Qui-Gon’s dead because of me.”

Dooku shook his head. He could not let Obi-Wan believe that. “No, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan continued as though he didn’t even hear Dooku speak. “Because I’m too slow—”

“Stop, Obi-Wan.”

“—too stupid.”

“Stop, Padawan!”

Both stared at each other, stunned by those words that had crossed Dooku’s lips. While Obi-Wan struggled to rein in his chaotic emotions, Dooku recovered from the surprise of his own unintentional word choice. “Qui-Gon’s death was not your fault,” he said, softening his voice. He already had Obi-Wan full attention. He no longer needed to command him to listen. “It was Qui-Gon’s.” Obi-Wan’s confusion read clearly in his expression. Dooku explained, “You said it yourself. He did not wait for you.” Fresh tears grew in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Qui-Gon chose to leave you behind and face your opponent alone. That was his choice to do so and, as such, it could never be your fault or your failing. That responsibility belongs to Qui-Gon alone. He was a Master who should have known better.” Dooku sighed. His explanation to Obi-Wan made events he had watched in the security footage clear to him as much as he hoped it helped his Grandpadawan. “There was nothing else you could have done. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan nodded. The action was automatic and mechanical. Dooku knew Obi-Wan’s heart wasn’t in it. “You will,” Dooku told him. “In time, you will.” He nodded to the remains of their breakfast. “Now, we will finish what’s left of our meal before we continue our discussion.”

During the parade, Master Dooku did not stand with the honored heroes of Naboo on the Theed Palace steps nor did he stand with the members of the Jedi Council. He lingered, instead, behind but nearby his Grandpadawan. He deliberately placed himself close to Obi-Wan Kenobi and kept watch over him as the young man stood in a place of honor among the Naboo Queen and those holding high office. The newly-elected Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and Governor Sio Bibble flanked Queen Amidala. Her Captain of the Guard, Panaka, stood at Palpatine’s left. Obi-Wan Kenobi held position to the right of Bibble, followed by a stiff and awkward Anakin Skywalker, and a blue astromech droid finished the line of honored heroes of Naboo. All of these details were known to Dooku, but he only had care enough to focus on Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Particularly Obi-Wan.

He noticed that Obi-Wan was not at all well. The wait was long for the arrival of the Gungan people to be formally recognized by Queen Amidala as heroes in their own right and to publicly acknowledge the unification and peace between the water-dwelling and surface-dwelling peoples of Naboo. More than once, Obi-Wan swayed on his feet. The movement would not be obvious to anyone other than a Jedi. Obi-Wan concealed his unsteadiness well but with each passing minute of this parade, Dooku’s concern grew for him. He had to get Obi-Wan out of there as soon as propriety allowed, which wouldn’t come quickly enough.

The Gungan delegation arrived at the foot of the Palace Steps and Boss Nass, the prominent authority of the Gungan people, walked up the steps to meet Queen Amidala. Obi-Wan exchanged a look with Anakin and he offered the boy a hint of a smile. Dooku noted the similarity in Obi-Wan’s expression to that of Qui-Gon’s when he’d proudly spoken of something his student had accomplished. Anakin understood Obi-Wan’s wordless approval of his decorum and opened his mouth to say something to him. Obi-Wan shook his head and Anakin’s mouth snapped shut. “Find me after all this celebration is over. We will talk then.” Anakin nodded and somberly turned his attention to the approaching Gungan. Obi-Wan, however, kept his attention on Anakin for a beat or two longer before watching the ceremony.

Dooku ignored the spectacle taking place in favor of studying the young Skywalker boy. The Council hadn’t wasted time in ensuring he looked the part of a Jedi apprentice before this event. Where they’d found initiate clothes to fit the boy, Dooku couldn’t guess. Perhaps it came courtesy of the Naboo Queen in gratitude for his part in liberating their planet. The details were irrelevant in any case. Young Skywalker certainly looked the part of a Jedi apprentice, braid and all, even though he officially had no Master, nor would be until he caught up with his remedial coursework and other basic educational courses and acclimation to Temple Life. Dooku had ensured the boy a fair opportunity to push himself to learn and to prove himself worthy of apprenticeship. Despite Qui-Gon’s firm insistence on Anakin’s training, his belief that he is the Chosen One of prophecy, and asking Obi-Wan to train the boy with his dying words, Dooku would not permit the honor of apprenticeship being handed to this boy without having earned it. Let the boy work hard for that honor as every Jedi before him, including Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon and Dooku, himself.

“Peace!” Boss Nass shouted, holding aloft an orb swirling with energy that Queen Amidala had presented to him. Cheers erupted in the streets from all of the Naboo.

The Queen looked to the side at the Skywalker boy and smiled at him. Obi-Wan turned his attention from Anakin to the Queen, observing the interaction calmly. He swayed on his feet again. Dooku stepped forward to intercede, but backed off when Obi-Wan corrected his posture and steadied. Dooku couldn’t wait for this formality to be over. He had important work to do and it certainly didn’t involve standing there as decoration at a parade for a minute longer.

_“Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan said, quietly, breaking the silence that had descended between them during their meal. Both Jedi stalled for time in each other’s wordless company by absently stirring and sipping their tea. They both had one more thing to discuss and it was not for Dooku to raise the subject. As such, Dooku patiently waited for Obi-Wan’s decision. He knew his Grandpadawan would not address the topic before going their separate ways. He was too respectful to do otherwise. Obi-Wan looked at him uncertainly. Dooku nodded for him to speak then took another sip of his tea. “Regarding the offer you made to me last night, I think I’ve made a decision.” _

_“Go on.” _

_Obi-Wan visually gathered his fortitude. “I accept and present myself to you, my Grandmaster, to complete my training under your guidance and wisdom.” _

_Dooku studied Obi-Wan. Warmth not stemming from his tea coursed through him at the time they were about to embark upon together. It had been too long since he’d taught a student. He put his cup and saucer down and reached into his robes for a certain object. With a dull clunk of finality, Dooku set it down on the table near Obi-Wan’s hand. _

_Obi-Wan drew a sharp breath at the sight of it. “I thought it had been burned with him.” _

_Dooku’s smile was lopsided, in a painful ghost of Qui-Gon’s smile. “I took it during my vigil. I can’t explain why. Sentimentality, perhaps. Or the Force told me it would better serve the living than the dead.” He nodded pointedly to Obi-Wan. “And it had not escaped my notice that you are without a weapon of your own.” _

_Obi-Wan nodded. “I had lost mine during the duel. He kicked it down the shaft.” He lowered his head in shame. _

_Dooku would have none of it. “And your resourcefulness allowed you to defeat your opponent with your Master’s blade.” Obi-Wan looked back at him then stared at Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, his expression haunted. “It is only appropriate that you conquer the pain of your Master’s loss by using the weapon that prevented your own.” With a nudge of the Force, Dooku slid Qui-Gon’s saber closer to Obi-Wan. “Take it. You need a lightsaber. It is not sentimental, nor attachment, to use his weapon when he no longer can. It is necessary. I believe Qui-Gon would say the same.” _

He would want you to have it.

_Obi-Wan swallowed hard. Hesitantly, he wrapped his fingers around the hilt and lifted it from the table. He tested the weight of it in his hand, a luxury he didn’t have as he fought for his life against the Sith. He felt the Force hum around the crystal inside the hilt. He felt the lingering presence of his Master in and on the weapon. His fingers tightened on the lightsaber and he clutched it to his chest as tears spilled from his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. _

_Dooku said nothing of Obi-Wan’s tears for his own moistened his eyes. _

Daylight sank into evening. The Naboo continued their revelries in the joy of their unified peoples, becoming familiar with each other without the lingering fear or distrust. If the effort to liberate their planet from the Trade Federation’s occupation did anything positive, it was in bringing the Gungans and Naboo surface-dwellers together. Dooku admitted this silver lining, but a part of him could find no joy in these events when they resulted in the death of his first Padawan.

With the night growing darker, the Jedi Council’s departure grew nearer. More than half of the esteemed group had already boarded their transport home to the Coruscant Temple. Master Yoda waited at the foot of the boarding ramp, leaning heavily on his shriveled gimer stick. Dooku approached his former Master. Yoda noted his approach.

“A good recommendation to the Council you gave regarding young Skywalker.”

Dooku acknowledged the comment with a sharp nod as he stood alongside Yoda. “This morning, Obi-Wan accepted me as his Master to see him through to his Trials.”

Yoda humphed. “Ready he was not when put him forward Qui-Gon did. Nearly, yes, but ready he was not.”

“I will prepare him as best I can, Master.”

“Train confident students, you always have. Confident Qui-Gon was, arrogant he seemed to some. A tower of strength and will to others he seemed. Trained him well, you did, if headstrong he still remained.”

Dooku sighed. “His stubbornness is not something I would consider a flaw.”

Yoda slammed his stick on the stone walkway. “Too sure of himself, he was. To his undoing it led.”

Dooku could not argue with that claim. He’d seen evidence of that with his own eyes when he watched the security footage. Masters Eeth Koth and Depa Billaba arrived and boarded the ship. They exchanged a nod with Dooku in passing. Once they were out of earshot, Dooku looked down at Yoda. “I did not come here to speak of my former Padawan.”

“Of your new and current Padawan you wish to speak?”

“Yes, Master.” He saw Master Windu approaching the ship in the distance. He kept his steps slower than usual so that the Skywalker boy did not have to run to keep pace with him. “He is deeply wounded by the sudden loss of his Master. As such, I request one week leave for him to grieve before I complete his training and submit him to his Trials officially.”

Yoda hummed in thought.

“A moment, Master Windu, please!” Obi-Wan Kenobi shouted from further down the road behind Master Windu and his charge.

“Only a moment, Kenobi,” Windu warned him.

Anakin turned. “Obi-Wan, sir!”

Obi-Wan slowed his jog as he approached. “Hello, Anakin. I’m so sorry to almost miss your departure.”

Master Windu continued to the ship but stopped at Yoda’s other side. All three Masters watched the interaction.

Obi-Wan tried to smile for Anakin, but it failed to reach his eyes. “I’d meant to talk with you longer.”

“That’s okay. I’m going to the Temple again. I’m going to start my training, I hope.”

Obi-Wan’s laugh was hollow with nostalgia for years past, when he had also been Anakin’s age, hoping to be chosen as the Padawan of a Knight or Master. Days and innocent hopes he could never reclaim. Instead, he could encourage them in other Jedi Initiates. “Yes, and I hope that you will work hard to catch up to your crèche-mates. If you ever feel lost, ask for help. There is plenty of it to be found in the Temple.”

Anakin shifted his weight and kicked the dust in the road. “I’ll try to.”

Obi-Wan knelt on one knee to closer even out their height difference. “A wise Master is fond of saying ‘Do or do not. There is no try.’ You’re certain to hear it often during your training.”

Anakin smiled and nodded. “Then I _will_.”

Obi-Wan gave him a tight smile in return. “Good.” He reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a small flimsi. “This is my com-code. You may use it at any time.”

Anakin took it with open awe and joy. “Wizard!”

“I’ll answer if I can, but I will be training very hard in the coming weeks so I may not always be able to answer.”

“Okay.”

Obi-Wan stood and, with a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, led him towards the ship. When they reached the boarding ramp, Anakin turned back to Obi-Wan. “Thank you, Obi-Wan, sir!”

“You’re welcome, Anakin.”

Anakin waved, then darted up the boarding ramp, the flimsi clutched tightly in his hand.

Obi-Wan bowed to Master Windu. “Safe journey home, Master Windu.”

“May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.” With a pointed look to Dooku, Windu entered the ship.

Yoda harrumphed as he started up the ramp. Once his ascent was nearly equal to Dooku’s eye level, he glanced over his shoulder to his former Padawan with a fond twinkle in his ancient eyes. “Approve your request, the Council does, Master Dooku.”

“Thank you, my Master.”

Yoda caught Obi-Wan’s questioning glance at Dooku. “Told tomorrow, you will be, Obi-Wan. Answers to your questions, then you will have. For tonight, rest you need. Rest you both need.” He continued up the ramp, his weight leaned into his stick more than usual, his mind burdened with the events of the last several days.

“Come, Obi-Wan,” Dooku said, gesturing back towards Theed Palace. “Queen Amidala has graciously offered us her hospitality for the time being. We should rest while the Force allows us the luxury.” He led his new Padawan back inside as the deep roar of the Jedi Council’s transport engines faded to a distant hum behind them.

For the next four days, Dooku and Obi-Wan spent a majority of their personal leave time touring the capital city of Theed on foot. It was truly a beautiful place and would be even more beautiful once the scars of battle on its walls and vegetation were healed by the rebuilding efforts already underway. During their long walks together, they grew familiar with each other’s personalities, their tastes, and opinions. The day following a spirited debate found them touring the Parnelli Museum of Art, a location miraculously unharmed during the Trade Federation’s occupation. There they had learned that they were able to be in each other’s company without exchanging many words at all. They were at ease in the other’s quiet presence. The speed with which they’d achieved that level of comfort surprised both Grandmaster and Padawan.

It was because of this peace in their growing relationship that Dooku felt he could broach a discussion he’d wanted to have with Obi-Wan since the night the Jedi Council departed for Coruscant. “I see you are determined to befriend that Skywalker boy and offer promises you may not be able to keep.”

Obi-Wan nodded, but his face gave away none of his thoughts. “He was disappointed to hear he was returning to the Temple but that I was to remain here temporarily.”

“He had the audacity to demand you return to Coruscant as well.”

That surprised Obi-Wan. “To who?”

Dooku gave him an affronted look. “To Master Yoda, of all people.”

Obi-Wan laughed at the mental image of Anakin versus Master Yoda on whether or not Obi-Wan should stay on Naboo or not. “I didn’t even think he liked me all that much, to be truthful of it.”

Their walk took them along the Solleu river that day. The soothing, meditative sound of the nearby waterfalls, the crisp smell of the flowing water, and the calls of the water birds around them calmed their minds and grief as they were surrounded by things and creatures so full of life and movement. It had been a perfect location for their walk. Dooku wished they had come across this route sooner. However, he knew that they both were determined on these walks to do as Qui-Gon preferred, to live in the moment and to enjoy it. Not to take moments such as these for granted.

As their walk took them to the edge closest to the waterfalls, Obi-Wan diverted their walk and turned off into a flowering garden path surrounded by tall hedges. Dooku understood immediately that Obi-Wan had done so for one reason. He sought privacy for this conversation. Dooku acquiesced to Obi-Wan’s choice and let him steer them into the garden.

“I did not think it would do any harm to give him a way to contact me. He is coming to the Temple much older than every other child. He hasn’t grown up with his agemates. I thought it would help him adjust a little faster if he felt like he had a friend.” Obi-Wan shrunk into himself as though expecting to be chastised. “And I will do what I can to honor my promise to my Master.”

Dooku recalled Obi-Wan’s heated words to him from several days ago. _‘I will train Anakin. Without the approval of the Council if I must.’ _He nodded at the memory, knowing this was the promise to which Obi-Wan referred. “And you may train him, but only when both of you are ready.” Obi-Wan slowed their pace as he focused more on Dooku’s words. “But he must first adjust to the Jedi way and push himself to equal his agemates, as is your concern. The crèche will do for him for the time being. More importantly than that, you must heal. Only after that will you be ready to train a Padawan. Certainly not in your present state.”

Obi-Wan’s spine stiffened. Dooku didn’t miss it, but for a beat he feared his words undid the days of growing comfortable with each other. “That is not a criticism, Obi-Wan.”

“I know, Grandmaster.” Obi-Wan visibly forced himself to relax. He faked a smile. “What did Master Yoda say to him?” he asked.

Dooku accepted the change in topic easily. “That Skywalker should learn to trust the judgment of the Council.” While Dooku generally agreed with the sentiment, he did not believe in blind obedience to the Council. He believed in questioning authority, in seeking explanations. Not nearly to the levels his Padawan had taken that viewpoint. Dooku tended to select his battles carefully. That didn’t mean he would encourage such continual questioning of the Council in a child’s behavior, especially one not raised in the Temple, who still had to acclimate to the Jedi lifestyle. “The boy protested again until I stepped in. Skywalker listens to no one, a trait most unusual for a recently freed slave boy.”

“He listened to Qui-Gon.”

Dooku scoffed.

Obi-Wan rushed to explain. “Despite finding himself flying into a space battle and accidentally destroying the Federation droid control vessel, which proved instrumental to the Naboo victory, Anakin technically didn’t disobey Qui-Gon. My Master told him to stay in the ship’s cockpit. He did.”

Dooku shook his head more emphatically with every defensive word Obi-Wan spoke on Skywalker’s behalf. “If you excuse Skywalker’s actions on the basis of a technicality, that boy will run roughshod over you on every technicality he can.”

Obi-Wan flashed a knowing grin to Dooku. “Did Qui-Gon do that with you?”

Dooku smiled fondly. “You will find that experience gives birth to wisdom, young Obi-Wan.”

As they continued their walk, Dooku shared with Obi-Wan some memories of his time training a particularly mischievous young Qui-Gon Jinn. In return, Obi-Wan told Dooku some of his experiences with Qui-Gon’s teaching style and the missteps both Master and Apprentice made during their time together. Neither of them noticed their discussion and reminiscing brought them joy instead of pain. 

Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt on one knee in the center of the Jedi Council Chamber on Coruscant. “Puts forward this Padawan for Knighthood, who does?” Yoda asked from his seat among the twelve chairs that ringed the circular chamber.

Soft footsteps approached Obi-Wan from behind. A supportive hand gripped his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I do as his sponsor, his grandmaster, and his teacher these last four weeks.”

“State your name for Council records,” said Mace Windu.

“Jedi Master Aren Dooku.”

Ki-Adi-Mundi leaned forward in his chair. “You stated that you were Padawan Kenobi’s grandmaster and teacher. Were you not his Master while Padawan Kenobi studied under your guidance, and not his Grandmaster?”

Obi-Wan shuddered but concealed it well. Only Dooku’s hand on his shoulder allowed him to feel the younger man’s offense at the question. This was a subject they had not specifically addressed during their time together, but both understood their places in each other’s lives. “That title can only belong to Master Qui-Gon Jinn, the man responsible for Padawan Kenobi’s training for thirteen years. I will not usurp his position nor the honor associated with raising a Padawan to Knighthood. I came to oversee the final stages of Padawan Kenobi’s training upon Master Jinn’s death.” Dooku swallowed the lump in his throat and squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “It is my duty to watch over the Padawan that mine left behind. That duty does not grant me the right to be named as Padawan Kenobi’s Master. That belongs solely to Qui-Gon Jinn.”

The Jedi Council Members stared hard at Dooku. He could feel them subtly probing his shields but he would not give them any answers except the one he just provided. Of all the gathered Masters to break the silence, Dooku did not expect Master Plo Koon to do it. “I accept Master Dooku’s sponsorship of Padawan Kenobi on Master Jinn’s behalf, as he is unable to do so himself.” He gestured to the center of the chamber, wordlessly permitting Dooku to continue. “That being said, Master Dooku has put forth Padawan Kenobi for the rank of Jedi Knight.”

Dooku nodded to Plo Koon, grateful to be getting back to the true business at hand. “He has completed his Trials. I am satisfied with his progress in the weeks I have supervised and observed him. He is skilled, quick, and calm. He has endured trials and tests that a Padawan has not done in generations and he has proven himself more than deserving of Knighthood. Obi-Wan is ready.”

Obi-Wan gasped softly at the phrase, Dooku’s words echoing those of his Master in this very chamber before they’d returned to Naboo to face the Zabrak Sith. Did Dooku know the words Qui-Gon had used or were they simply traditional when one put forth a Padawan for Knighthood consideration? Obi-Wan had no idea. This marked the second time a Master had declared him ready for Knighthood, and the second time Obi-Wan did not feel ready at all.

“Agree with you, the Council does,” Yoda said.

Obi-Wan’s eyes darted to Yoda and found only kindness and compassion there. He bowed his head in humility. Yoda grunted as he climbed down from his chair and approached him. Dooku released his shoulder to stand beside Yoda in front of Obi-Wan. Dooku’s boots were black and polished. Obi-Wan would have given anything to see the well-worn, scuffed leather boots of his Master before him. He was relieved that he had to bow his head. It better hid the tears flooding his eyes.

Yoda took up the end of Obi-Wan’s plaited hair that hung behind his right ear. “A symbol a Padawan’s braid is. With colored bindings and beads, marked your accomplishments are as progress in your training you do. Placed them there your Master has while trained you he did. A Padawan’s braid, a declaration it is, that a student of the Force you are but not yet ready to stand on your own without a Master.” Yoda halted and cleared his throat. Obi-Wan looked at the ancient Master who gazed upon him with both pride and sadness. “To lose a Master before Knighthood, a trial itself it is. Difficult for you these weeks have been. But right your Masters were of this, ready you are. Ready you _were_.” Yoda’s ears drooped. With a soft gasp, Obi-Wan understood what Yoda tried to say.

Obi-Wan should have been Knighted before he’d returned to Naboo.

Qui-Gon should have been there to Knight his Padawan.

And because of the tensions during that last Council meeting, neither happened.

Obi-Wan didn’t know how he’d found his voice. “Thank you, Master Yoda.”

Yoda worried the end of Obi-Wan’s braid in his gnarled hand. “Sorry, I am.”

Obi-Wan struggled to keep his composure. He was about to be Knighted. Since his earliest days in the crèche, this moment was spoken of as one of the happiest in a Jedi’s life. All Obi-Wan felt was heartbreak.

Dooku took up his braid and held it taut. He slipped a small knife at the base of the braid and stood poised for the ceremonial words from Yoda.

“Confer on you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, the level of Jedi Knight the Council does.”

Dooku severed Obi-Wan’s Padawan braid, the sound of it loud at Obi-Wan’s ear. He didn’t know if he’d sobbed aloud or not. “You are no longer a Padawan Learner,” Dooku said. His voice never wavered. He spoke steadily and surely. “Now, arise, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Knight of the Jedi Order.”

Obi-Wan did not rise quickly, as though reluctant to leave his Padawan rank behind him. Reluctant to leave his time with his Master behind him forever. While he still wore Qui-Gon’s braid, he could pretend his Master was still with him in some way. But now his braid was gone, severed from him just as Qui-Gon and the training bond they’d shared had been violently severed by the Sith Zabrak on Naboo. The last thing tying him to Qui-Gon, his teachings, and his presence lay limply in Master Dooku’s open hand. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath and pressed his lips tight together to hold back sobs that he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop if he released the first sound of grief. He stood, his focus not on his new rank, but on the loss of his old one.

“I present to you the braid of your training, Knight Kenobi,” Dooku said formally. He offered it to him.

Traditionally, a Padawan would refuse to keep the braid and immediately present it to their Master as a symbol of gratitude for the years of mentorship, care, and time the elder Jedi had invested in their Apprentice. But in Obi-Wan’s situation, tradition no longer applied. He felt the eyes of the Council on him, curious as to what exactly he would do. Obi-Wan lifted tear-filled eyes to Dooku. “Forgive me, Grandmaster.”

Dook’s eyes softened. “There is nothing to forgive, Obi-Wan.” He took Obi-Wan’s hand and raised it palm up so that he could spare Obi-Wan from taking it from him. He chose to give it instead.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard, fighting to keep his dignity in front of the Council. Dooku saw his struggle. He swept his arm towards the doors of the Council Chamber. “Walk with me, Knight Kenobi.” A weight lifted from Obi-Wan’s shoulders as the doors slid shut after their departure and the disapproving stares of the Council were cut off from them. He breathed a sigh of relief as he and Dooku descended in the lift back to the Main Temple. Dooku turned to him. “I do not fault you for rejecting tradition regarding your braid even if the Council will. They do not understand what you have endured. And—” He cleared his throat. “I miss Qui-Gon as well.”

Obi-Wan clenched his Padawan braid in his hand and stared at the floor.

Dooku circled around to stand in front of him. “Look at me, Obi-Wan.” Accustomed to obedience to a Jedi Master, Obi-Wan did so. “I want you to understand something important. The Code may tell us that there is no emotion, there is peace. But I want you to know this: no one can be without emotion completely. That is not possible. To find peace, you must acknowledge your emotions. Feel them. Then, and in time, you will find peace with them. To expect you to do and be otherwise is ignorant and callous.” Dooku’s eyes swam with compassion and understanding. “Obi-Wan, it is acceptable to grieve and to mourn Qui-Gon’s loss. You are no less of a Jedi for doing so.”

Obi-Wan nodded. But with the movement, all of his emotional strength shattered. His tears fell freely and sobs burst forth from deep in his chest. Dooku planted his hands on his shoulders and anchored him, stopping him from crumbling to the floor of the lift. A soft _ding_ signaled their arrival at the bottom of the spire. The doors parted. Dooku ushered Obi-Wan forward. “Join me, Obi-Wan. Tonight is not the time to be alone in your grief. We will have dinner, some tea, and you will rest. You’ve endured enough for now.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Thank you.”

The bittersweet evening for Grandmaster and Grandpadawan balanced on the fine line between rejoicing in Obi-Wan’s Knighting and mourning the absence of the one who should have been there.

Dooku wove his way through the winding walkways of the Garden of Tranquility in search of his Grandpadawan. He never favored this particular garden. The paths were too narrow, too overshadowed by dense shrubbery that muffled sound and concealed individuals in need of both solitude and nature, and the eerie quiet of the place unsettled him. But he knew that he would find Obi-Wan here somewhere. Obi-Wan often quieted his mind and anxious thoughts in a garden. Any would typically serve him well, but he had lately taken to the Garden of Tranquility over all others, including his former favorite, the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Dooku didn’t have to ask him why.

In the time after his Knighting, Obi-Wan and Dooku often strolled through the gardens as they discussed their futures and whether or not either of them would take a Padawan in the future. Obi-Wan held tight to the promise he made to his Master. Dooku, though he enjoyed the role of teacher, doubted he could manage to raise another Youngling through a decade-long apprenticeship until Knighthood. Obi-Wan tried to persuade him not to swear off teaching permanently. Dooku gave him his word that should the right student come along he would put aside his reservations and consider becoming a Master to a Padawan once more. That satisfied Obi-Wan.

Dooku emerged from the labyrinth of high hedges and onto the trimmed green grass that led to the very heart of the Garden of Tranquility. While a grand room in itself, the center of the garden housed an ancient Wilteria tree, protected by the tall hedges that embraced it from all sides in a winding maze littered with private nooks and crannies where any Jedi could soothe their souls and heal their spiritual wounds. The Wilteria tree was over a thousand years old, several hundred years older than even Master Yoda. The sturdy, thick trunk tapered off to thin, pliable branches all weighed down by its cascading green-yellow leaves and vibrant blossoms displaying all shades blue and purple. The Wilteria’s branches and flowers hung low all the way until the tips touched the grass and concealed its trunk like the bereaved would hug their own bodies to fulfill the tactile comfort another could no longer give them. The Wilteria had healed many Jedi’s spiritual wounds by offering the suffering one privacy, protection, and peace.

Dooku brushed aside the leaves and flowers with his arm and stepped inside the bower. The willowy branches closed behind him and settled heavily in the same way that he would wrap his robe tighter around his body to ward off the cold or the rain. But this environment held no unpleasantness as chill or dampness. Darkness did not dwell within the Wilteria’s arms. Despite the denseness of the branches, leaves, and flowers, the sunlight shone through in such a way as to bathe the bower in bright, warm, welcoming light. The Wilteria sheltered Dooku, guarded his presence there.

Not only his presence. Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt at the base of the Wilteria tree.

Dooku made no sound as he approached, but Obi-Wan’s head tilted as though he heard him. “Did you know this was my Master’s favorite tree, Grandmaster?”

“I did, yes.” He didn’t try to quiet his footsteps now that Obi-Wan acknowledged him. “He discovered this place when he was thirteen. It was after a particularly heated row about which lightsaber form suited him. He demanded Ataru despite my best efforts to persuade him towards Makashi. I lost the argument when he stormed from our quarters.” Dooku ran his hand along the bark of the Wilteria. “I found him here two hours later, calm. He explained his reasoning for his chosen form right where you kneel. I gave my permission for him to seek out another instructor in Ataru. He asked my master to teach him.”

“Master Yoda taught my Master Ataru?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice that of a child eager for stories of a young incarnation of his Master.

“He did.”

“He taught me in Ataru.” Dooku wondered what prompted that comment. He knew Qui-Gon taught Obi-Wan his own form specialty. It was all too obvious in the Naboo security footage. Obi-Wan didn’t tell him something he didn’t already know. “I don’t wish to continue with Ataru. It doesn’t leave room for defense against an opponent and uses up too much energy too quickly. In order to last in a duel for your life, it doesn’t make sense to waste your energy on acrobatics and such prevalent in Ataru.”

Dooku nodded. Both of them had the same thought. “I find I would agree with your assessment, Obi-Wan. If you are determined to change your form, perhaps Soresu or Makashi would suit you better.” Dooku forced down the bile that rose in his throat at the thought that had he been more insistent that Qui-Gon learn Makashi, he might still be alive.

Obi-Wan reached into a pouch on his belt and drew forth a coiled rope. No, not a rope, but a braid. His Padawan braid. The severed end had been tied to prevent it from unraveling. Otherwise, Obi-Wan preserved it to look just as it had when it had draped proudly at his right ear, complete with all of the colored ties and beads that his Master had woven into the braid to mark his Padawan’s various accomplishments. Until that moment, Dooku didn’t notice the hole in the ground in front of Obi-Wan’s knees. “My Master loved this place,” Obi-Wan said. He reverently lowered the coiled braid to rest in the earth. “I’d always looked forward to my Knighting, to presenting my braid to my Master. It never even occurred to me that he wouldn’t be there, that I couldn’t give it to him, that I couldn’t thank him for all of the lessons he taught me, for everything he gave me by being my Master and choosing me as his Padawan.”

Dooku swallowed his own grief at the loss of his student. His pain could wait. Obi-Wan needed him and his strength. “He knew, Obi-Wan.”

But Obi-Wan seemed not to hear him as he continued and reached for a handful of the loose dirt and began to bury his braid beneath the soil. “I couldn’t burn my braid with him on Naboo since I wasn’t Knighted yet. I thought about doing it anyway, though, Knighted or not. I wanted Qui-Gon to have my braid.”

Dooku would have understood had Obi-Wan severed his braid early for that purpose. He almost said so, but knew Obi-Wan needed to speak and that he needed to listen to him. He stood silently at Obi-Wan’s side and watched as he continued to add more dirt to the grave of his Apprenticeship.

“Since I didn’t cut my braid on Naboo, and knew that my Master would not be there with me for my Knighting, I tried to think of something that would feel like I presented it to him. Some days I wish I had put it on his pyre. I wish I did. I wasn’t really a Padawan anymore since that day anyway.” Obi-Wan didn’t even bother to wipe his tears away. They fell freely onto the earth over his braid. “I thought of this the day after my Knighting. I thought I should leave it in a place my Master loved most. It’s the closest I can ever come to giving it to him, the closest it can be to being with him.” Obi-Wan patted the soil firmly on top of his buried braid. He leaned back to examine his work. “Perhaps coming here to meditate like he did will be like visiting my Master, meditating with him again.” He turned his tear-streaked face to Dooku. “Is that foolish of me, Grandmaster?”

Dooku shook his head. “I think that…” He trailed off as a soft, warm breeze drifted through the garden, gently rustling the wispy flowering branches around the two of them. “Qui-Gon would have been pleased to see the both of us here finding comfort and peace in a place he loved that is full of life, and the Living Force, that he so cherished and obeyed.” He looked around the bower of the Wilteria tree and let the warm-colored blossoms and the green-leaved branches soothe him. “Yes, I think he would have been pleased to see us here honoring him.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Sometimes when I’ve come here, I could have sworn I felt his presence. Is that possible? Or is that just my—”

Dooku lowered himself to his knees at Obi-Wan’s side. “I believe it is possible, Obi-Wan. Just as you can feel the energies of a Jedi on their lightsaber, I believe you would be able to feel the energies of a Jedi on other objects they may have touched often.” He nodded to the ground on which they knelt. “I often found Qui-Gon here in this very place when I could not find him anywhere else. Sometimes he sought the complete shelter of the branches above us.” Obi-Wan looked up at the branches, imagining a younger version of his Master nestled in the arms of the Wilteria Tree. “I do not doubt that some of your Master, of my Padawan, remains here in this earth and within this tree.”

Obi-Wan sniffled to contain a sob and he nodded to acknowledge Dooku’s words. Dooku waited for Obi-Wan to regain his serenity. Together, they knelt before the Wilteria Tree long past sundown and too late to fetch a proper evening meal. They breathed in the scent of the flowers, listened to the branches swaying in the light breeze, and drew comfort and strength from the energy within the bower suffused with the Living Force, of Qui-Gon Jinn, and of each other’s close, supportive presence.

They walked leisurely back towards the residential wing of the Temple. Obi-Wan broke the comfortable silence between them hesitantly. “Grandmaster, what did you mean at my Knighting when you told the Council that it was your duty to watch over the Padawan that yours had left behind?” Dooku faltered in his step and Obi-Wan slowed to compensate. “Did you offer to finish my training out of duty or because—”

“I offered because I wanted to. While it also was my duty as your Grandmaster, I could have refused to assist in your training. I was not obligated to come to you.” Dooku resumed their previous pace. “The truth, my Grandpadawan, is that I…have a certain fondness for my former Padawan, and thanks to his high praise of you and your talents, it naturally followed that my fondness would extend to you.”

Obi-Wan flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry that we never met before.”

“As am I. I would have liked the circumstances of our meeting to have been different.” They reached the door to Obi-Wan’s humble Knight Quarters. Dooku cleared his throat to get Obi-Wan to face him and not enter the rooms. “When do you leave?”

Obi-Wan started and then smiled. Of course his Grandmaster would know Obi-Wan had been assigned his first solo mission. “Tomorrow morning.”

Dooku nodded and took both of Obi-Wan’s shoulders in his hands. “You will flourish, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon taught you well.”

Obi-Wan nodded at him pointedly. “So did you, Master Dooku.”

Dooku offered Obi-Wan a small but gratified smile. “Master Jinn, your Master, would have been proud of you, Knight Kenobi. Very proud.”

Early the following morning, Obi-Wan waited at the wall across from the refectory doors, his hands concealed in the wide sleeves of his robe. The pleasant chime signaling the end of first meal warned Initiates and in-residence Padawans that that they better start making their way to their first classes. Young Jedi filed from the refectory, but Obi-Wan searched for one particular blonde-haired boy among the throng. He straightened when he spotted him, following dutifully in a line after the Crèche-Master under whose supervision he’d begun his training. Obi-Wan stepped forward to intercept the group.

“I’m sorry, Master, but could I borrow Initiate Skywalker for just a moment?”

The Crèche-Master took note of his absent braid. “Of course, Knight Kenobi. However, he is due in Galactic History.”

Obi-Wan smiled charmingly. “I promise my delay with him will not make him tardy for his lesson.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “See that it does not.” Both adult Jedi bowed to each other. She turned and called her charge out of line.

Anakin eagerly rushed forward. “Obi-Wan, sir!” he shouted with a smile. At the disapproving look of the Crèche-Master, he cleared his throat, corrected his posture, and presented a bow to Obi-Wan. “I mean, Master Obi-Wan, sir.”

Obi-Wan steered Anakin away from the group with a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Not a Master, yet, Initiate Skywalker. Just a Knight.” Neither of them paid any attention to the Crèche-Master leading her Initiates off to their classes.

“So, do I call you Knight Obi-Wan, then?”

“That’s the proper address, yes.”

Anakin wore his confusion plainly. “But you look just like the Masters do. The Padawans you can tell because they have braids, and the other Initiates are small like me so I know they’re Initiates, but how do I know if I should call someone a Knight or a Master? After you’re not a Padawan anymore, everyone looks the same.” Obi-Wan tried not to laugh. Anakin caught him. “I mean, maybe it’s obvious with someone like Yoda, but everyone else, how do I know?”

Obi-Wan corrected him through his laughter. “_Master_ Yoda, Anakin.”

Anakin frowned and grumbled, “Master Yoda, then.” He rolled his eyes until they landed on Obi-Wan. “But really, _Knight_ Obi-Wan. It’s a problem!”

“It’s really not, _Initiate_ Skywalker. It does no harm to address someone as Master when you’re not sure of their rank. You won’t offend a Master by calling them a Knight by mistake if you always use the word Master.”

Anakin nodded. “And I won’t offend a Knight by calling them Master, right?”

“No. In fact, most times when a Knight is training their first Padawan, their apprentice will still call them Master.” He noticed that Anakin looked uncomfortable. The reason for it hit Obi-Wan like a blaster bolt and stopped him in his steps. “Anakin, to a Jedi, the word Master is a term of respect and admiration. It is not and never will be about ownership over another or having complete authority over someone. I always called Qui-Gon ‘Master’ but it wasn’t because I felt that I always had to obey him. It was because I respected him and loved him. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, but he shifted his weight self-consciously. “I just—”

“It will take some getting used to. I know. It’s alright.”

“I get yelled at if I don’t say it. And I’m already different from everyone because I can remember my home and my mom and I keep asking stupid questions that everyone knows the answer to and—”

“Anakin, listen to me,” Obi-Wan said, gently turning the boy to face him directly. “There is nothing wrong with you. The only reason why the other Initiates know the answers to questions you are asking is because they were brought to the Temple when they were very young, much younger than you. I was brought here when I was only six months old.”

Anakin looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “You don’t know who your mom is?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No. Almost no Jedi does. But because I was brought here so young, I grew up with hundreds of brothers and sisters. Once he chose me, my Master became the closest thing I will ever have to a father. I don’t know any other life or any other family. The Jedi _are_ my family.” Anakin bit his lip, clearly struggling to understand. “Your experience will be different because you grew up with your mother and remember her. _She_ is your family.” He smiled kindly at Anakin. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be your family, too.”

Anakin crashed into Obi-Wan’s chest. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin and held onto the lonely little boy who reminded him so much of himself as an insecure, frightened Initiate before Qui-Gon Jinn took him as his Padawan.

Anakin pulled away and swiped his sleeve across his nose. “Um…what did you need me for?”

Obi-Wan wished he had better news for him. “I wanted to let you know that I have to go on a mission.”

Anakin’s eyes widened in sudden excitement that overruled all previous emotions. “By yourself? Is it far? Will you fight someone? Are you flying? Is it—”

“Slow down, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said through his smile. “Yes, by myself. This is my first solo-mission as a Knight. It’s to a Mid-Rim planet, so not terribly far. I hope it won’t come to fighting, and I am not flying there myself.” He held up a hand to cut off another barrage of questions. “I wanted to tell you so that you wouldn’t think I was ignoring you if I can’t respond to any messages you might send me while I’m off-planet.”

“Is this different than when you stayed on Naboo and I came here?”

“Yes, quite a bit different, I’m afraid.” Anakin nodded. Obi-Wan smiled at him encouragingly. “Can you be patient until I come back?” Anakin nodded again. “And in the meantime, will you be diligent in your studies?”

“Diligent?”

“Work hard.”

“Oh.” Anakin thought about the question, then nodded.

“Good. In that case, I will see you when I get back, Initiate Skywalker,” he said, starting a formal bow. “And I believe you have a class now, don’t you?”

Anakin’s question stopped him mid-bow. “Will you tell me everything that happens?”

Obi-Wan peered at him from the tops of his eyes, his body still bent in mid-bow and a smirk playing at his lips. “Perhaps, if—”

Anakin leaned closer. “If?”

Obi-Wan gave up on the formality. “If you can prove that you were never late for a single one of your classes while I’m away.”

Right on cue, the five minute warning chime sounded before class session began. Anakin grimaced. “Starting today?”

“Starting today, Initiate Skywalker.”

Anakin whirled around snapping off a Huttese curse and dashed off down the corridor. He looked back and waved to Obi-Wan. “Good luck, Master Obi-Wan! See you soon! Bye!” His distraction nearly caused him to crash into Master Eeth Koth, but the older Jedi maneuvered quicker and avoided the human missile racing through the corridors to class.

Half an hour later, Obi-Wan sat on the bunk he’d been assigned on the transport ship that would take him to his first Knight assignment. As soon as he’d boarded, he made a quick comcall to the Master Archivist of the Jedi Archives, Madam Jocasta Nu, and made an enquiry. Within the minutes it took for him to find and settle into his bunk she returned his call with an answer. He read it over, his smile growing the more he read.

_Knight Kenobi, _

_If he remains uneasy with the use of ‘Master’ for anyone older than a Padawan, Initiate Skywalker can use the following substitutes. Both of these archaic terms of address are often used towards members of our Order by countless Jedi while on mission to other worlds, and both are considered polite and acceptable, even if no longer in fashion: Sir (paired with a given name, such as Sir Obi-Wan, Sir Jocasta), or Jedi (paired with final name, such as Jedi Kenobi, Jedi Nu). _

_I hope this eases Initiate Skywalker’s concerns and allow him to concentrate more on his studies than his anxieties. –J.Nu_

Before the ship entered hyperspace, Obi-Wan forwarded the information to Anakin.

The ramp lowered on the transport ship and a weary young Jedi Knight trudged down it and stepped foot on Coruscant’s surface for the first time in three months. It was the middle of the night and he thanked the Force for that small mercy. His report to the Council could wait until first thing in the morning. He could recuperate, shower, and get some much needed fully-restful sleep. He missed too much of it on his first solo mission and he longed for his bed and personal Knight’s quarters.

His impression of a Knight’s first independent mission was that the Council assigned something not exactly simple but that which a recently-promoted Padawan could handle. Certainly nothing difficult or impossible. Of course, the mission blew up in Obi-Wan’s face. Privately, he owed his success to running around the galaxy with Qui-Gon Jinn for half of his life, diffusing and sometimes escaping tense situations, oftentimes with blaster bolts aimed at them. During the debate sessions, Obi-Wan caught himself several times turning to his Master for his opinion. The reality of Qui-Gon’s absence, both on the mission and forever from his life, struck him sharply each time.

But Obi-Wan fulfilled his mission and boarded the transport to Coruscant as quickly as he could without making it obvious that he wanted to go home.

The rain fell densely that night, and Obi-Wan tucked his robe tighter around him, drawing his hood up to keep dry and warm. He made his way to the port taxis and acquired one’s services to take him to the Jedi Temple. He said very little to the driver during the short ride, but politely thanked her for the transportation when he disembarked.

Obi-Wan walked through the doors to the Temple and once more marveled at how active the corridors were even at such a late hour. Senior Padawans, Knights, and Masters wandered the vast passages in solitary contemplation or hushed discussion. The sight was common during the daylight hours, but typically in higher traffic. Obi-Wan kept his hood up, shadowing his face and casting him into relative anonymity as his feet carried him through the halls. He barely focused on where exactly he headed, but it occurred to him that he’d long ago passed the Residential Wing where his quarters awaited him when the soft rustle of leaves drew his attention to the here and now.

Unintentionally, Obi-Wan Kenobi had wandered into the Garden of Tranquility and directly to the Wilteria Tree.

He lowered his hood and mentally debated what to do. The branches swayed in the artificial breeze of the garden, parting to reveal the sturdy trunk inside the protective bower. Something he could not place urged him forward, and Obi-Wan obeyed. He stepped through the curtain of leafy branches and went to the base of the Wilteria Tree, the very spot he’d last visited before his departure for his mission. He noticed the growing grass in the soil where he’d buried his braid. He knelt before it, in the place where his Master had sought peace from trials through decades of his life. “Hello, Master,” Obi-Wan said, laying his hand on the new patch of grass.

The leaves rustled gently, the breeze warmly caressed his cold face.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come home, but as usual, the mission went a bit awry.”

The Wilteria Tree sighed.

“I know. You’re not surprised. I really wasn’t either.” Obi-Wan looked up the trunk to where it began to split into the first thick branches. “Shall I tell you about it?”

The leaves swished excitedly.

Obi-Wan laughed softly, shucking his robe off behind him. He repositioned his legs to a more comfortable, seated meditative posture. “I thought you might. It started off as a typical mission like always, Master. Two factions contested their right to certain minerals and resources on the planet. I arrived and managed to get them into the same room and started discussion, but…” Obi-Wan regaled the Wilteria Tree long into the early morning. His voice ran hoarse, his upright posture slumped until he lay on his side, barely able to sleepily finish his sentences, and his hand rested on the grass that concealed his shorn Padawan Braid. While he slept in the protective bower of the Wilteria Tree, some of its leaves drifted from its branches to settle on his hand and cheek, in his hair, and on his shoulder.

“I thought I would find you here, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan woke with a start and blinked blearily up at the man towering over him. He propped himself up into a half-seated, half-lying position in his struggle to wake up. The light of the new day bathed the bower in the same color as the lightsaber blade he wore at his side, a bright, crisp emerald green. He groaned as stiff muscles protested his abrupt transition from asleep to awake. His discomfort earned him a deep, unsympathetic chuckle from his visitor. His nose chose that moment to notice the new, pleasant scent in the air. “Did you bring tea, Grandmaster?”

Dooku motioned for him to stay seated as he joined him on the grass, settling himself into a cross-legged seated position to mirror Obi-Wan. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Grandpadawan. I decided that caf would be the better choice.” He handed a steaming cup to Obi-Wan, who hummed gratefully as he deeply sniffed its aroma. Chocolate caf, one of Qui-Gon’s favorite indulgences.

Dooku took a sip as he studied his clearly exhausted Grandpadawan. The younger man had leaves clinging to his tunics and his hair. His heart ached at the visual similarity between Obi-Wan in that moment and Qui-Gon when he was fourteen years old. Nature clung to Qui-Gon his entire life. It seemed that Nature clung to Obi-Wan in Qui-Gon’s stead.

“I heard that you were to return to the Temple last night. Certain Council Members shared some mentioning of the results of your mission to me after you submitted your initial report.”

“This is an official meeting?” Obi-Wan asked, his guard immediately rising.

Dooku shook his head. “No, no. I’m explaining to you why I waited in your quarters for your return last night. I was—” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “—hoping to welcome you home.”

The intended gesture touched Obi-Wan. He stared into the cup cradled between his hands. “I’m sorry I missed you.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Obi-Wan.” Dooku inhaled the fresh air around them. “I suspected where you had gone when you did not arrive in your quarters. I checked there again first thing this morning. When you were still not there, I knew for certain you had come here.”

Obi-Wan expected to find disapproval in Dooku’s face. The understanding and compassion surprised him. “I don’t know why I came here first.”

“Don’t you?”

Obi-Wan sipped his caf. Dooku deserved the truth after all of the support he’d given him when they’d lost someone dear to them both. “The mission was…it was difficult without my Master there.” Dooku nodded encouragingly. “He’s been with me for so long that I got used to his presence. I think an irrational part of me expected that he’d always be there. Sometimes I almost asked him for advice or his interpretation of the situation. But when I turned to do that and he wasn’t there—” Obi-Wan swallowed. “It hurt all over again. It was hard being on my own.”

Dooku set his cup down on the grass. “It is difficult for a Master to watch their Padawan take their first steps as a Knight without them. Like their apprentices, Masters grow accustomed to their Padawans being at their sides for so long that being sent on their own missions again is jarring. Suddenly, after years together, the one on whom you’ve relied to guard your back when blaster fire breaks out in negotiations isn’t there anymore. Knighthood is a challenge for both the new Knight and their Master.”

“I understand, Grandmaster.” Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to imply otherwise. “How are you adjusting?”

Dooku hummed in a stalled consideration of the question. “I have been through this transition before, Obi-Wan. Likely I will adjust with much more rapidity than you will this first time.” Obi-Wan fidgeted self-consciously. “That is not a failing in you,” Dooku reassured him.

“I know.”

“Give yourself time. You will find your feet yet.”

Obi-Wan hid his grateful smile behind the rim of his cup. Once the emotion passed, Obi-Wan examined his Grandmaster’s motivations for repeatedly seeking him out since his reported return to the Temple. Something else lay just beneath Dooku’s encouragement but he couldn’t pinpoint what it could be. His answer came to him with the help of a warm breeze swirling through the bower, starting low and then rising to disturb the highest leaves, the sound rising with it. There was a question in the very air around them. He simply needed to ask the simplest one. “You must have something weighing on your mind to have searched the Temple grounds for me three times in less than one day. Why?”

Dooku acknowledged the question with a curt nod. “A simple question, but not a simple answer, Obi-Wan.” He sighed deeply as he stared down at his folded hands. “It’s been almost six months.”

Obi-Wan didn’t need to ask what he meant. Six months ago, Qui-Gon Jinn became one with the Force. It seemed impossible. “Surely not, Grandmaster.” How could so much time have passed so quickly? The fatal blow, his Master’s agonized shock, the feel of their bond dissolving, the vigil, his pyre, all of it sharp and vivid in Obi-Wan’s memory. He remembered every painful moment clearly.

Dooku nodded. “While you were away, I had the opportunity to meditate on the training of Padawans, and I wondered if there was something I had missed when I reviewed the footage from Naboo.” Obi-Wan took a sip of caf to wash down his nausea. It didn’t help. “I did miss something. Perhaps I wasn’t ready to see it. Or perhaps I was unwilling to see it.”

Obi-Wan’s nausea climbed. He tasted bile in his mouth as Dooku’s words compelled him to ask, “See what?”

Dooku hesitated. “When I first saw that footage, I watched it as his teacher. I saw the mistakes that a Master would look for in his fighting.” He smiled with bitterness and self-deprecation. “I failed to see that I had not been his Master for a great many years.”

Obi-Wan reached out to his Grandmaster. “You will always be his Master. In the same way that he will always be mine.”

Dooku hung his head before giving a short nod. “I looked for what he was not doing, and by noting the flaws of his form, I failed to see what he _was_ doing.” He focused his deep eyes onto his Grandpadawan. “Your faith in your Master was not misplaced nor naïve. Qui-Gon was _not_ a fool.”

The gentle breeze in the bower of the Wilteria Tree stilled. Obi-Wan drew back, breathless and surprised. His mind flashed instantly back to the very first meal he shared with Dooku.

_Dooku set his cup down hard and fixed Obi-Wan with a glare of his own. “Do not be a fool like your Master.” _

_“My Master was not a fool,” Obi-Wan said, his face twisting in offense. “He was wise, compassionate, kind, and the best swordsman in the Order.”_

_“That all may be true, but he was still a fool who was outmatched.” Obi-Wan nearly interrupted, but obeyed Dooku’s upraised hand for his silence. “Rushing in against a faster, younger opponent like that. I taught that boy better than that!”_

Obi-Wan extended his use of the Force to questioningly touch Dooku’s shields, uncertain if he would be allowed access. Dooku did not relent mentally, but his face softened and his eyes sought Obi-Wan’s trust. Obi-Wan shook his head. “I don’t understand, Grandmaster. Your view was the exact opposite when we last spoke of this.”

Dooku nodded but did not look away from Obi-Wan. “In some ways it remains very much the same. He recklessly pushed forward against a superior opponent who outmatched him in speed and stamina. That is true. He did. I thought he’d acted in arrogance of his renowned skill as a duelist. He underestimated his opponent. Of that I am certain. But what I failed to see was _why_ Qui-Gon would _choose_ to do this. Why he would make that deliberate choice to go against that creature without waiting for you. He _should_ have known better.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe. He remembered the moment his Master had made that decision just before he emerged from his meditation while separated from the Zabrak via the red energy wall.

_‘Master, wait for me. I will reach you in the next cycle, but you have to delay him there. Please.’ He used their training bond to explain his plan, his intention to face this dark warrior together with his Master. He prepared himself to run, powering up his lightsaber for the instant the red shields began to fall and he could rejoin his Master. _

_‘I’m sorry, Padawan,’ Qui-Gon sent him through their connection. _

_The shield fell. _

_Qui-Gon rose and advanced hard on the Zabrak. _

_Obi-Wan ran to him, but his way was blocked by the last shield powering up before he could clear it. He watched, his terror growing with every clash of sabers, every slower parry. _

_The Zabrak struck his Master, dazing him. Qui-Gon dropped his lightsaber. _

_Agony. Master and Padawan unable to breathe from agony._

_His Master’s fading eyes found those of his Padawan. ‘Forgive me, Obi-Wan.’_

_Qui-Gon crumbled to the floor. _

_Obi-Wan faced the satisfied smile of the Zabrak. Anger kindled in him, a rage he could not control to destroy that which had mortally struck down the person Obi-Wan loved best in the universe. _

“He did not expect to be bested that day,” Dooku said. “But he _did_ know better, Obi-Wan.” Dooku closed his shaking hands around Obi-Wan’s forearms. His eyes begged for Obi-Wan’s trust, for the same unswerving faith his Grandpadawan had placed in Qui-Gon Jinn. “Your Master pressed forward because he was trying to protect you.”

Obi-Wan forced air into his lungs, but he could not catch a deep breath. He thought he’d finished shedding his tears for his Master, but more streamed uncontrollably from his eyes. He wanted to look away from Dooku, but his Grandmaster’s eyes held his demandingly. But images of that horrific day coursed through Obi-Wan’s mind, the emotions suffocating him. Dooku squeezed his arms, trying to ground him in the present. _In the here and now, where it belongs._ Obi-Wan focused on his Grandmaster, and steadfastly refused to look away from him, not even through his tears.

“Your Master acted as he did out of love for you, his beloved Padawan.” Obi-Wan sobbed. “Just as I came to you for love of mine. To my surprise, I found the fondness I hold for my Padawan extend to my Grandpadawan. How could it not when he spoke so well of the boy who helped him find his Light again?” Dooku brought his hands to rest atop of Obi-Wan’s, firmly closing his fingers around the back of the younger man’s hand, sharing his strength, lending his support, and to provide his confession. “When he was my Padawan—” That got Obi-Wan attention. In some ways, every Jedi hoped to hear stories of their Master’s youth. Dooku wanted to indulge his Grandpadawan in this. “—Qui-Gon tried to teach me the value of giving love freely and openly.” Dooku allowed a hint of a smile to show. “He tried to do this by taking in as many plants and lost animals he could into our quarters.”

A watery laugh found Obi-Wan’s voice. “I always called them pathetic lifeforms.”

Dooku chuckled. Clearly Qui-Gon felt his own Padawan needed the same lesson as his former Master. He believed Obi-Wan and Dooku of a similar nature. “Only recently have I started to learn the lesson that my Padawan tried to teach me.”

“I think we’re both learning.” Dooku nodded. Obi-Wan found a smile for his Grandmaster. “And I think we’ll do just fine, Master.”

Around Grandmaster and Grandpadawan, the leaves of the Wilteria Tree softly whispered with its approval.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this story way back in June 2019, but was incredibly anxious to post it because it's not exactly happy subject matter and felt for a long while that no one would really want to read about this. But after several friends getting on me about it still not being posted, plus being kind of proud of this fic after I reread it, it's finally up and here for everyone to read. I'd be lying if I said I hope you didn't cry, but even if you did I hope you still enjoyed reading it. Thank you! 
> 
> Also, if you were interested, the Wilteria Tree is a mix of a Weeping Willow and a Wisteria Tree. ~ RK


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